Love Me, Love Me Not (Incongruent Figures #1)

by S. M. Koz

  “I can answer that,” Brittany says, picking up my phone. She types something onto the screen and then a video from last year’s talent show appears. The one with me and six of my football buddies dressed in grass skirts and coconut bras doing the hula.

  I laugh as it zooms into me. I’ve got the most serious expression on my face as I rock my hips to the music.

  “Oh my God,” Hailey says, picking up the phone to see it better. “You look so ridiculous.”

  “Really? I got a lot of compliments afterwards.”

  She shakes her head and laughs when the music picks up and we jiggle our hips faster. While she watches, I press my side against hers, enjoying the warmth that seeps through my jeans and t-shirt. I rationalize I need to be this close to see the screen since she’s holding it near her chest. This is the most contact we’ve had in a long time and it feels good. She gives me a look out of the corner of her eye, but doesn’t back away. In fact, she casually drapes her hand between us, so it skims my inner thigh and sends jolts of electricity straight to other parts of me.

  “Alright, I’m leaving,” Brittany says, possibly taking a hint. “We start dance lessons tomorrow after school. Be there.”

  “I don’t know.”

  “I did it. You can do it,” I say, taking her hand in mine and moving it lower down on my thigh to try and silence the little devil siting on my shoulder telling me some making out wouldn’t be a totally terrible idea.

  “There’s nothing to be gained from me doing it,” she says.

  “I disagree. I’ll enjoy watching it over and over again.”

  “So, you want me to embarrass myself in front of all those people for your own personal viewing pleasure?”

  “Yes.”

  “I could just give you a private show.”

  “And that is my cue to really leave,” Brittany says, standing. “See you tomorrow!”

  “That’s not what I meant,” Hailey yells, her cheeks turning pink.

  “You weren’t offering to strip for me?”

  “No!”

  “’Cause I’d really love to see that.”

  “And I’d get kicked out.”

  “That’s the beauty of Brittany’s plan. I get sexy Hailey, but it’s totally harmless.”

  She groans and falls onto her back. “I’m not sure I can dance like Brittany.”

  “Do the best you can.”

  “What do I get if I do it?”

  “You’ve already got me half naked, shaking my ass,” I reply, pointing to my phone. “What more do you want?”

  “I don’t have a phone or a computer. I have no way of accessing your half-naked self whenever I want.”

  Her words make me smile. She wants to have easy access to me whenever she wants. I get that because I feel exactly the same way. I’ve still been trying to sell her on the phone, but she refuses. She says my parents have already done enough for her. Of course, there is an old school way to feel close to someone.

  “You need a picture. Come on,” I say, grabbing her hand. I drag her to my room and then sit in front of the bookcase. She joins me as I pull out my most recent album. Mom is crazy with pictures and makes me one each year.

  I start flipping through, looking for a good one.

  “Wait, what was that?” she asks, stopping my progress. She’s looking at the picture of me and Dad at a Duke basketball game last year. He’s got his arm around me and we both look ecstatic. It’s because Duke just beat UNC by twenty points.

  “That was when he still loved me,” I say, quickly flipping the page.

  “He still loves you.”

  When I don’t respond, she touches my shoulder. “You know that, right?”

  “It’s hard to know when he won’t talk to me anymore.”

  “He still talks to you.”

  “Not really. It’s all business. It’s not like it used to be.”

  “I bet he’ll come around.”

  I ignore her comment and continue perusing the photos. I’m glad she’s optimistic, but I lost most of my optimism after a month of the silent treatment. He’s a psychiatrist; he knows silence is a passive aggressive approach that solves nothing, but has still chosen to continue with it. At this point, I figure my only hope is helping my team win the state championship. Maybe that would prove my worth to him. Luckily, we’re in a good position to do that. We’re the number one seed going into the first round next weekend. I’ll give it my all and hopefully not only win the championship, but also get my dad back.

  “How’s this?” I ask, pointing to a picture of me at the pool last summer. Adam and I are mugging in front of the camera, flexing our muscles and wearing nothing but our swim trunks.

  “That’ll work.”

  I take it out of the plastic and pass it to her extended hand. “I can’t wait to see you at that party,” I say with a grin.

  Chapter 24

  HAILEY

  I can’t believe I ever agreed to this. I’m standing in the DSS bathroom wearing black spandex leggings and a skimpy top that looks more like a bedazzled bra. I wouldn’t even wear this to sleep in, let alone to parade in front of a bunch of strangers.

  “You look fantastic,” Brittany says, adjusting my hair again. “Brad’s going to be drooling in his seat.”

  “That’s probably not a good thing.”

  “It’s a great thing.”

  “Not when we can’t be together.”

  “It’s building up anticipation. Think of how much fun you’re going to have on your birthday,” she says with a wink and an elbow to my ribs.

  I have thought about that. A lot. While I’m excited about what the day holds for us, I’m nervous about everything else that happens that day. I’ll officially be out of DSS. I’ll be an adult and on my own, but I won’t have money, a car, or a place to live. Not to mention, there will still be a few weeks of school until graduation.

  I haven’t talked to Gigi about this yet, but I’m hopeful she’ll let me continue to stay in their house until at least graduation. I know they won’t get their monthly stipend for me after my birthday, but my plan is to do more chores and not take an allowance. Hopefully, that will come close to covering it.

  After graduation, I have no idea what my plan is. Brad is still pushing college on me. I want to go, I do, but I have a hard time seeing myself there. It’s just not somewhere someone from my situation ends up.

  “Show time!” Lily, the drummer, says, banging her drumsticks together. “Let’s do this!”

  The other girls cheer, but the knot in my stomach, the one that’s been there for the past week, clenches even tighter. I know the routine, and I think I look halfway decent doing it—not as good as most of the girls, but not completely horrible either—but practicing in front of a mirror is one thing. Doing it for the thirty people out there is something else entirely.

  “You’ve got this,” Brittany says, shoving me out the door.

  The next thing I know, I’m in front of the crowd in formation and there’s no getting out of it. The room is silent and I take a deep breath. I need to pretend like I’m back in the practice room.

  The first chord hits, and Brittany walks to the front of the cleared area on the floor. It’s supposed to be our stage, but it’s not raised like a typical stage. The second chord hits, and she draws the mic to her mouth. With the third chord, she belts out the first line of the song and me and the other dancers walk forward to join her. After that, it’s like I’m on autopilot. I do the moves without thinking. I know there are a lot of people watching, but my eyes are trained on the clock at the back of the room. By not looking at any of them, I can easily pretend they don’t exist.

  We finish the first song to a huge round of applause and cheers. I’m pretty sure I hear Brad’s deep voice stand out, but I refuse to look in that direction. I have one more song to get through and I’m worried if I meet anyone’s eyes, I’ll chicken out.

  I move to my positon at the edge of the stage for the next song and take a
couple deep breaths to prepare. This is a slower song, and Brittany starts singing quietly without the instruments. Her voice grows louder and louder, then me and the other dancers glide in from either side to stand right behind her and mimic her moves when the drums kick in. For this one, we switch up our formation a couple times, and I end up in the back row as we approach the end of the song. Knowing I’m hidden by the other dancers and that I only have a few seconds left gives me the confidence to finally peek at the audience. I look in the direction of Brad’s voice from earlier and find him standing up, holding his phone in front of him, swaying to the rhythm, while looking directly at me. When our eyes meet, he smiles, but it’s not his typical high-energy smile that shows his bright teeth and cute little dimple. Instead, just one corner of his mouth is turned up in what can only be described as a mischievous grin. And sexy. Yes, it’s a very sexy grin. I’d love to know what he’s thinking right now.

  We hit our last pose and the crowd erupts in cheers again.

  “What a talented group of ladies!” Joelle, Brittany’s social worker, yells. “Let’s give them another round of applause!”

  We take a bow and then Brittany spins around and wraps me in her arms. “I’m so proud of you,” she beams. “You did it!”

  “You have no idea how well I did. You should probably hold off any praise until you see the video.”

  “This wasn’t about being good. It was about having the balls to do it.”

  “Now I’ve got balls?”

  “Metaphorically speaking.”

  “I’m not sure that’s a metaphor.”

  “You know what I mean!” she says, punching my shoulder.

  Just then, Brad appears next to Brittany. “Wow,” he says.

  “That’s it?”

  He steps closer and says, “Meet me outside in two minutes, okay?”

  “Why?”

  “Just do it.”

  He takes off toward the front door and I scowl. I did this all for him and he didn’t have much to say. I could have easily saved myself a lot of anxiety by not doing it at all.

  “Hailey, that was wonderful,” Gigi gushes, approaching me. She hugs me and Gil pats my shoulder. “Wasn’t that wonderful, Gil?” she asks.

  “You were all very … in synch,” he says politely. Gigi, Brittany, and I stare at him. What kind of compliment is that?

  He holds up his hands in front of himself. “Sorry, I think I might be a bit out of touch with the current dancing style because I was expecting something a little more …”

  “Poodle skirts and hand jive?” Gigi suggests, sneaking her arm around his waist.

  “No, but something less …” He pauses for a second, then completely surprises me by holding his arms up and grinding his hips.

  My eyes grow wide while Brittany squeals, ““You’re hired! I’m calling you for our next gig!”

  He laughs at her then pulls me into a hug with him and Gigi. “It was good to see you up there, Hailey. You looked different—like you were confident and having fun. I think this was really good for you. You should keep doing it.”

  “Oh, no. This was a one-time only thing.” Now that it’s over, I can admit it wasn’t as bad as I expected and I might have had a little fun, but there was a lot of anxiety leading up to it. Overall, I’m glad I did it, but I don’t plan on doing it again anytime soon.

  “Well, I still think it was good for you,” he says, letting me go. “They’re serving lunch in the other room. Let’s get something to eat.”

  “I’ll be right there,” I answer. “I’ve got a few things to wrap up here.”

  “Of course.”

  I watch him and Gigi walk through the door and then turn in the opposite direction to meet Brad.

  As soon as I step outside into the cold, I feel his hands on my waist. “What took you so long?” he asks, his lips landing on my neck.

  “Brad!” I whisper-yell. “Someone will see us.”

  He pulls me away from the door and into the shadows outside the alcove, his mouth moving toward my ear, then over my jaw. “That was the hottest thing I’ve seen in a long time,” he whispers before covering my lips with his own. His hands slide down and cup my butt through the spandex.

  “Brad,” I whisper again, but I can’t convince myself to take a step back. It feels too nice to have my body pressed against his. Plus, it’s freezing outside and I’ve got next to nothing on, so it’s serving a survival purpose, really.

  “Yeah,” he murmurs, deepening our kiss.

  “This is a bad idea,” I say, my hands sliding up his face and into his hair.

  “I know.”

  “You need to stop.”

  “I can’t. Only child. Need for immediate gratification, remember?”

  “I don’t think your dad will buy that excuse.”

  “He already hates me.”

  “He doesn’t hate you, but he might kick me out.”

  That gets him to stop. He knocks his head against the brick wall behind him twice. “This is killing me, Hailey.” He looks down at me and I see the conflict in his eyes. I get it. When someone tells you that you can’t have something you want it all that much more. It kind of makes me wonder what will happen to us when we can actually act like a couple. Will the spark fade after only a few weeks when we’re not forbidden to see each other?

  “My life is a mess right now with the baby and Michelle and worrying about the playoffs and where I’ll be recruited. I spend so much time on all that stressful shit. I need time to relax. Time to just chill with you and kiss a little. That shouldn’t be too much to ask.”

  I’m surprised by his words. He usually does a good job of appearing like he can take on the world, whether it’s true or not. I think the situation with his dad is taking its toll and I wish I could do something to help.

  “I know,” I reply, laying my head against his chest. A cool breeze whips past us and I shiver in his arms.

  “You’re cold.”

  “I’m fine.”

  “Here, take my coat,” he says, peeling off his varsity letter jacket. “I should’ve had you meet me somewhere inside. It’s too cold out here.”

  “It’s my lack of actual clothes that’s the problem.”

  He watches me slide my arms into the sleeves and then pull the collar up around my neck. It warms me immediately and the faint smell of him against my cheek makes me want to melt back into his arms.

  “Okay, yes. What’s the address?” A woman’s voice breaks the silence and Brad and I both snap to attention. I glance around the wall of the alcove. It’s a woman I’ve seen around DSS, but have never talked to.

  “Great. I’ll send someone over there right away. Thanks.” She pockets the phone, then turns to go back inside, but stops suddenly.

  I retreat back against the wall.

  “Is someone there?” she asks.

  Brad reaches up to his eye and then tosses something to the ground.

  “I know it fell out right here,” he says, grabbing my hand and pulling us both to our knees, where he starts searching through the grass.

  “Is there a problem?” the woman asks. “Oh, hi Hailey,” she says when she’s right beside us.

  “Hi,” I mumble.

  “I came out here to call a friend,” Brad says, “and my contact fell out. Hailey’s trying to help me find it.”

  “Good luck,” the woman says. “I can never find mine when that happens.”

  Despite her words, she gets down on her knees and starts smoothing her hand over the blades of grass with us.

  “I didn’t know you wear contacts,” I say, looking at his face. I suspected it because of the unnatural blue of his eyes, but never asked him about it. The funny thing is, the only way I can tell the eye it’s missing from is by his squinting. The blue color is exactly the same in both, so it must be completely natural. More good Campbell genes.

  “I’ve worn them since I was eleven.”

  “Do you have any extra?” the woman asks.


  “Yeah, I always keep a spare set in my car.”

  “You might want to get those because I don’t think we’re ever going to find it.”

  “You’re probably right.”

  He stands, wipes the dirt from his hands on his pants, and then helps me and the woman up.

  “When you’re done, come back inside,” she says. We’ve got pizza and cake.”

  “I never pass up pizza and cake.”

  “Good man,” she says. She smiles at both of us and then heads back through the door.

  “That was too close,” I whisper. “You need to control yourself.”

  “You need to change clothes. Now,” he says, squeezing my butt again. He’s back to playful Brad, but I know the stressed out Brad isn’t far below the surface.

  “Stop touching my butt.” I whisper.

  “Stop teasing me with it.”

  “I’m just standing here.”

  “And looking sexier than you ever have before.”

  I smile. “Do you want an encore performance on May 10th?”

  “Hell, yeah.”

  He looks around us to make sure we’re alone, then kisses the top of my head. We walk toward his car and I say, “You know, you could have just pretended to lose your contact. You didn’t have to actually take it out.”

  “I choked.”

  “And here I always thought you were cool under pressure.”

  “I used to be. You seem to be messing with my game.”

  I stop and face him. “Don’t let me mess with your football game tonight.” It’s their first playoff game, and I do not want to feel responsible if they lose.

  “I think I can handle that.”

  We continue walking to his car, where he unlocks it, pulls a foil package from the glove box, and then quickly replaces the missing contact.

  “You know,” he says, eyeing the interior, “we could make out in here for a few minutes.”

  “As tempting as that sounds, people are probably already wondering where we are.”

  He rolls his eyes and slams the door. “I’ve got to be honest. My resolve is crumbling. I’m having a harder and harder time remembering why we’re torturing ourselves. We may need to think about finding some private time.”